A Will to Survive
by Dimensionist
Summary: During her time in the locker, Taylor focuses on survival above all else. Now, blessed (or perhaps cursed) with an ability that will ensure her survival at all cost, Taylor finds herself caught between her ideals and reality. A hero or a monster - who is Taylor Hebert? ON HIATUS
1. Mold: 1-1

She'd been banging at the locker for a long time now. Screaming her lungs out for hours.

Nothing.

The bitterness within her couldn't be held back, even as she felt herself growing dizzier from the smell. They'd left her, all of them. Those who had simply stood by and watched, as Sophia, Emma and Madison had thrown her into this disgusting locker and locked her. No one had even seen fit to make a note of it, to see the injustice and horror of the act. No, they'd been content in their own little lives, their own little worlds. What did it matter, that Taylor was bullied? What did it matter, if Taylor was treated inhumanely?

As the hours dragged on, it became more than bitterness. A creeping horror was starting to overcome her. Surely they'd let her out soon, right? Surely they weren't planning on making her stay in this locker for a day? For more than a day? Today was the last day of school for the week - the school would be empty for two days. She could ... she could _die_.

A part of Taylor crumbled at the realization, at the knowledge that she'd been left here to die, to cry to her bitter end with no one to hear her. Another part of her raged at the injustice of it, at the cruelty of it - but was powerless to do anything. And a greater part of her simply lay there, numb, counting the seconds to distract her from the smell. Wondering if this was going to be _it_.

A day passed. Then the next. She was _starving_ now, and desperately thirsty. Parts of who she was had crumbled away in this harsh environment, till only the numbness was left. The numbness, and a single, all-consuming desire.

_Survive_.

She had to survive. She would not die here, not die because of the malicious acts of a bunch of schoolgirls. She would not leave her dad behind, broken by the death of his daughter, as he'd been broken by the death of his wife.

As she lay there, nearly insensate, a cockroach crawled over her. Insects, gathered because of the putrid odor of the locker, crawled over her body. Slowly. Painstakingly.

And Taylor? She was past things like dignity or sensibility. All she wanted to do was survive.

And so she ate them. For sustenance. For anything to stop that raging hunger in her belly, she ate them.

Within her mind, a litany was being chanted. To survive. Survive at all costs. No matter what it takes.

And it was in this state of mind, that she saw _it_.

-

At first, she thought it was a delusion. Something brought on by her fragmented state of mind.

But it was too real. Too raw, too visceral, what she saw.

Two creatures, larger than worlds, larger than the universe itself, reflected infinitely. Coming together, and leaving. Joining and leaving. Countless fragments that descended of those two entities, of those infinite entities, as they danced their eerie dance. Everything about them seemed to fold inwards and outwards, stretching on endlessly yet just visible all the same.

It was enough to drive her insane, if she was not there already.

The shards of the entities breaking up seemed to swirl around and above her, forming patterns and designs impossible for the human mind to perceive. They dangled away, just out of reach.

Finally, a voice seemed to reverberate around her head, echo all around her. It came from the entities, the infinite creatures she saw in front of her, occluding the planets and stars.

_Agreement_.

And then she knew no more.

-

When she woke up, something seemed different. The bugs around her were gone, curiously enough. Vanished, as though they'd never been-

- _chittering through the nest, seeking out food, sustenance. Had to gather food, had to feed the Clan_

_- chitinous skeletons, rapidly flapping wings, redundant systems, resistance to shock, resistance to radiation, resistance to-_

_- _!  
Taylor shook her head, trying to make some sense of what she was seeing. Of what she was feeling. Her mind seemed to stutter and start again, skipping things that slipped from her mind without her making an effort to hold them. They didn't seem important anyway. Didn't seem a priority.

No, what was strange was that ... she could feel herself. Could feel her body in a way she'd never felt before. Every vein, every blood vessel, every cell - they sang of their existence in a way she could intuitively grasp. She suddenly understood everything about them - not in words, not in definitions or classifications, but a bone-deep understanding of everything that was going on with her body. And ... she felt ...

... Like she could _change_ them.

She didn't know how, but the answers came to her as easily as she reached for them. How something could be adjusted, moved around, just made to fix things _there_, adjust something _here_.

There were flashes of skittering and chittering in her head, her ears hearing sounds that weren't there, but she ignored them to focus on what was in front of her.

She felt ... strong. Rejuvenated. Her body was working at more than a hundred percent, responding to her thoughts with absurd ease. Maybe, just maybe ...

She tried, applying just the tiniest bit of strength, something she would ramp up with time-

-and the locker door was launched off it's hinges like a cannon, slamming into the wall with a resounding thud.

Taylor gaped at the scene, before a giddiness started making itself known throughout her body.

Powers. Superhuman abilities. She was a _parahuman_.

And, most importantly, she was _out_.

With a whooping yell, that she would have been too shy to do if anyone was around, she rushed out of the school, not even noticing that she was moving faster than usual.

_Much_ faster than usual.

-

She made it to her house in a matter of minutes, and tentatively knocked on the door. She was a bit wary, a bit concerned, wondering how her father would have been dealing with her being gone.

The door unlatched, and opened, and father and daughter met for the first time in over a day.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Danny looked like he'd seen a ghost, while Taylor's eyes were watering at seeing her father again.

"D-Dad ..." She managed, choking the words out with difficulty.

Nothing more was said. Danny rushed forwards, wrapping his arms around his daughter, crushing her to him as though afraid to let her go. And Taylor simply held on, lightly gripping her father's arms, afraid to hug him for fear of her strength.

"You're alright," Danny whispered, his relief so palpable it was almost painful to look at. "You're ... you're _alright_."

"Yeah," Taylor replied, her eyes watering once more. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What- ... what _happened_, Taylor? Where _were _you? I was ... I was so _worried"_

"It's alright, dad. I'm alright. Everything's ... everything's going to be fine."

Danny stopped hugging her, and held her for a moment, a hand's width apart. His hands were on her shoulders, and his eyes were searching Taylor's.

"Who ... who _did_ this to you?" He rasped out, clearly boiling with rage. He'd seen her dress, seen the puke and blood that decorated it. "What did they _do _to you?"

"Dad, we'll talk about it later. Right now ... right now, I _really_ need a shower."

Danny nodded, jerkily, reigning in his anger with difficulty. It was still there, of course, boiling under the surface - but he could put a lid on it all the same.

This wasn't over. They'd talk, later, about what had happened, who had done what they did. But for now?

For now, Taylor was filthy. And she really needed that shower.

-

Late at night, after discussing everything with her father, Taylor lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

She'd told her dad everything - from the initial friendship that seemed to have rejuvenated, to the vicious betrayal. She'd named the ones responsible, and her father had promised to do everything in his power to see that the ones who'd pulled that 'prank' were punished for their malicious actions.

She didn't expect much to come of it, truth be told. Not the least because that's how it always had been. But she didn't want to think about that.

Raising her hand, she felt her muscles coiling as she clenched her fist. Felt it move beneath her skin, at her command. Felt it reshape itself, along with skin and bone, into a form she chose.

Raising her claws in the air, Taylor smiled. She had superpowers now, and she knew what she was going to do.

_I'm going to be a superhero._


	2. Mold: 1-2

As she'd expected, nothing came of telling her dad about the bullying.

Oh, he certainly tried. She couldn't fault his dedication, his hounding of the system to get results. But the simple truth was that the system simply wasn't one that worked. Not for her, anyway.

No one came forward to corroborate her story of them pushing her into the locker. Emma and her clique had the backing of the student body. They were popular, in vogue. Taylor? She was just some no-name nobody who had no friends and was picked on at school.

Still, enough evidence _was_ pulled up regarding the bullying happening earlier on. Notes that she'd pulled up regarding their conduct, timestamped and properly formatted; incidents observed by the teachers, though usually light when in their presence. Just enough that a case _could_ be made for bullying, even if it couldn't be made for anything serious.

For that, Emma and her group of sycophants and friends got suspended for a week. Or would have, if she hadn't interceded.

She hadn't done so out of any sense of mercy, though. It had simply been because she knew that if they were suspended due to her, then they'd be twice as nasty when they came back. And since there was no chance of expulsion, or of her getting transferred, there was no point in the punishments.

Just another way the system had failed her.

Her dad took it really hard, though. He seemed to believe he'd failed her, when he'd done anything but. It took time - time, and effort, and a lot of love - but she was able to get him to accept that it wasn't his fault, that he'd tried hard enough.

A month passed, while all this went on. None of the culprits were caught, none of them were punished. But the intensity of the bullying took a sharp dive from the locker incident. Less traumatic, more petty. Tripping her while she was walking down the stairs on in a hallway, messing with her books and stationery, throwing things at her, verbally abusing her - they'd gotten down to that level of petty cruelty.

It was alright. She could handle it. And now, she had something else to take her minds of things.

Her powers. She'd practiced with them - a little bit at a time. It seemed she could control her body completely, make it take whatever form she desired, manipulate it anyway she wanted. She could look like anyone, make herself stronger, faster, tougher. She could even twist her body into various shapes.

The day she went flying had been one of the best days of her life.

She'd ... changed a little bit about her. Just a little bit. A few curves there, a little more femininity in her features, a little boost to her bosom. Just enough to make her attractive, yet still not be alarmingly different in terms of appearance to others that they'd notice.

Even she had a little vanity, after all. And she'd never felt comfortable in her own skin. If this power was nice in any way, it was that she could finally feel that her body was her own - that her body was one she wanted.

It was a small thing, but with that small thing came confidence. And an ability to deal with people. Just enough that she'd stopped caring as much about the various petty assaults made by her tormentors. Just enough that she could move forward with her head held high.

There were other discoveries that came with her powers as well. There seemed to be set of instincts within her now, ways to move and live that were ... rather alien. It reminded her of insects, which made her wonder if her power didn't have something to do with them.

With those instincts came ideas for forms, and it was this that finally led her to figuring out what her disguise would do.

It was strong, she noted. Durable. Enough that she felt she was likely bulletproof, if not even more durable. It lowered what level of acrobatics she could perform (and she could perform _quite_ a few - her instincts provided them to her easily), but it turned her into a tank. Tough, and capable of smashing through anything in the way.

And it was going to see some use. Tonight. The night she was going to start her superhero career. The night she'd make her debut.

XXXXX

In Brockton Bay, there were several gangs vying for control of territory.

There was the Empire Eighty Eight - a neo-nazi group aiming to purge the city of all those not of white complexion. This group was led by Kaiser, a parahuman capable of controlling metal to a great extent - moving it, shaping it, even creating it. The group had more parahumans in its employ than any other gang in the Bay, and as such had a great amount of power. Their only real rivals were the Azn Bad Boys, another powerful gang led by the parahuman Lung. He was one of the toughest - if not_the_toughest - parahuman in Brockton Bay, said to be capable of going toe to toe with an Endbringer solo when he really got going. This gang also had quite a few parahumans in their employ, though Oni Lee, his second in command, was the only one who had any level of prominence.

I wasn't going after either of these gangs tonight. For one thing, even with my newfound confidence I felt that I wasn;t ready to take on the big boys so soon. I needed to start small, needed to start with something simpler.

So I went after the Merchants.

The Merchants were one of the weaker gangs in Brockton Bay, lacking the reputation or potential of any of the bigger gangs. It was made up of the weary, the downtrodden, the poor and disenfranchised. The have-nots of society, to be blunt. They were lead by a parahuman named Skidmark, whose ability, according to what I'd read, was to create deflector fields capable of pushing things through it, or pushing things away from it. Tricky to deal with, but nothing too special. Nothing I couldn't deal with.

He also had a tinker girlfriend, Squealer, who made some fairly impressive, if ugly devices. Still, she wasn't much of a threat either, for a fight she wasn't prepared for.

I could do this. Even if I ran into the best the Merchants had to offer, I could beat them.

Now I just had to find them.

-

It didn't take long.

I should probably have been surprised, but I really wasn't. Brockton Bay had very little in the name of law and order when it came to the Docks. All the efforts of the government were concentrated in the Boardwalk, the tourist trap of the city. The Docks? You'd be lucky to find a single police officer roaming there at night - not the least because it was dangerous for them too.

I'd adopted a disguise for this operation - changed my form to look like a down-on-her-luck girl, dressed in rags. Her face and body was completely different from my own - I wanted to keep this identity as separate from my own as I could - but she was still pretty, in a grunge kind of way.

In that disguise, it didn't take me long while I was in Merchant territory to meet someone who thought I looked like a target. As he and his friends moved in to box me in an alley, likely so they could inject me with drugs enough to effectively make me addicted, I prepared.

When they'd finally cornered me in an alley, I executed my plan. My body abruptly _shifted_, twisting into the armored shape I'd come to consider my costume. Before the drug peddlers could react, I was among them. Three blurred strikes - much weaker than I could deliver, but enough to disable - hit the drug peddler's friends and they collapsed, clutching broken arms or ribs. The peddler tried to escape, but I simply grabbed him and hoisted him up in the air with one hand.

I must have been an intimidating sight - seven feet tall, wearing armor black as the night. That, coupled with my own attempt at psychological intimidation, amateurish as it was, proved enough. He sang like a canary, directing me to where the Merchants were storing one cache of their drugs. It must have been my lucky day, to have the information fall into my lap like that.

I knocked out the peddler and his three friends, and took to the rooftops - quickly moving towards the location the peddler had pointed me too. Dropping down from the rooftops, I smashed into the building through the door, ready and willing to handle any Merchants I might find inside.

The good news? I did find a drug stash.

The bad news? It wasn't the Merchants who owned it.

And Hookwolf was looking pretty pissed.

XXXXX

I'll admit it, I froze.

Hookwolf, one of the deadliest parahumans Kaiser had in his employ. Capable of transforming his entire body into metal, and shaping the metal however he chose - though he usually chose the form of a wolf, hence the name. He was one of the worst opponents I could have gotten, not the least because any ability I might have had to manipulate the biology of other people was utterly wasted on him.

I'd experimented, before. Tried to extend my abilities to other creatures, change them the way I could change myself. And for the most part, I _was_ successful. My power was capable of engineering a change on a cellular level on any creature I was in contact with. However, I'd found I couldn't do much with it. I didn't seem to have the intuitive knowledge of how to manipulate biology the way a biological tinker would have had. I could try altering them in ways and configurations pertaining to human norms (and, strangely enough, insectoid norms), but everything else required trial and error. It was how I'd gotten my wings - working to adapt the wings of an insect to work for something so much larger had been tough, but I'd managed after reading a few books and working out organic structures capable of managing the lift, while still working within the paradigm established by the insects I'd seen and studied.

Which didn't mean I couldn't ruin a creature's biology something fierce by touching them, of course. I just couldn't shape it that well without practice, and I had little to no control over those I shaped. Unfortunately, none of that was of any help against Hookwolf, whose body was effectively all metal on the inside.

In the time I froze, I also noticed something else. Hookwolf wasn't the only parahuman here. I could also recognize Stormtiger in the background, hands flexing into claws, the air around his hand shaping into invisible blades. Another problem, then, even if he wasn't as much of a threat to me as Hookwolf.

"You've got some guts barging into our operation. Do you have any clue who you're messing with here?"

Of course I did. Empire Eighty Eight. Not that I told them that.

I tensed, preparing for a fight. My mind could sort through information rather quickly after the change - a result of optimized neural architecture, no doubt - and things weren't looking good. Hookwolf alone I might have managed. Maybe. Hookwolf with Stormtiger to back him up? There was nothing going for me here.

But ... I looked around, at the drugs that were even now being sorted into containers and crates, put there by people wearing nothing but their underwear. The people there didn't seem to be particularly thrown by my appearance, acting as though this happened all the time. For all I knew, it did. Either way, this was too great an opportunity to pass up, too much good I could do by getting these drugs of the street. I needed to put a stop to it.

Wordlessly, I attacked.

I didn't go for Hookwolf first. First, I needed to take out the small fry, the henchman. My arms and legs bulking up and getting stronger, I rushed their position, taking Hookwolf and Stormtiger by surprise. Not that the surprise lasted - by the time I'd rapidly disabled the fifth henchman with a shove, a job that had barely taken three seconds, Hookwolf had already changed into his wolf form, the whirring and grinding of metal audible in the chaotic melee. Stormtiger leapt at me, his claws extended, and I rapidly ducked underneath him and struck, smashing him into the ceiling of the warehouse.

I'd gotten a lucky shot in, but I didn't know if that would be enough to take out Stormtiger. I had bigger problems - namely a whirring death machine named Hookwolf leaping onto my position, smashing me through a wall with a metal spear extending from his shoulder at high speed.

The attack barely dented my armor, but the simple fact that it _had_ done damage to my armor - a simple attack like that - told me I was in trouble. I leapt back in, and was promptly smashed out again by Hookwolf leaping on top of me. The hooks, blades and spears rapidly whirred and grinded on my armor, chipping it away piece by piece, while I desperately pushed him off, launching him fifteen feet in the air to smash into the wall of a nearby building.

I wanted to run. My armor had taken a lot of damage with that last attack, a lot of the chitin covering my chest was gone. But I'd made a stand here, and getting those drugs off the street would be something I could be proud of doing, something that a superhero would do. Not the actions of nerdy Taylor, who was bullied and victimized at school, but the actions of a real hero.

I needed this.

And so I didn't let Hookwolf get any respite. As he lunged at me, I met him mid-leap with a massive fist, empowered and bulked up to half an average man's height in width. It slammed into him like wrecking ball, pulverizing him into the ground, creating a crater ten feet wide.

And then I just kept smashing him. My fists descended again and again, denting and breaking the metal that covered him, that protected his fleshy insides. I ignored the pinging sounds the bullets colliding ineffectually against my armor made, fired by the rest of the goons inside the warehouse. I ignored the grinding of the hooks, blades and spears against my armor, the steady chipping away of my protection in favor of just trying to break the metal shell protecting him. My arms became blades, stabbing into him, and then changed again into drills, rotating rapidly and pushing in, grinding away the metal covering Hookwolf.

I couldn't, however, ignore the three blades of wind that came out of nowhere and stabbed me through my spine.

I'd made a mistake. I'd gotten too focused on Hookwolf, ignored my other senses, and I'd payed for it. Stormtiger ripped his claws upward, moving straight through my heart and slicing out of my brain.

_No_, I thought, the pain almost overwhelming me. _I won't die like this. Unable to make even a small difference, unable to do any good? I refuse to die!_

I tried to heal the damage. Tried shifting parts around, moving mass to fill the spaces and change into the necessary organs and forms. It started to work, and then Stormtiger stabbed me again, eviscerating me and then impaling me in the head.

Blood flowed like a river from me, drenching the streets. My stomach and my intestines lay on the street, macabre ornaments to my demise.

_Fuck._

I couldn't think anymore. I'd taken too much damage, lost too much functionality. Honestly, I'm surprised I wasn't dead already, but a part of me was still fighting. All I needed was more mass, more biological material. I could shape it all, fix my body, get back in the fray.

My body wasn't responding. Not as it should, anyway. Not only that, my mind was fading, instinct taking over. All that I could think of was how I needed food, needed sustenance, needed ... needed ...

Stormtiger crouched down, leaning over my dying body. He kicked it, and got no response.

"He dead?" Hookwolf asked, now standing there with his arms folded. He seemed to have taken little to no damage from my assault, as though all my efforts to take him out had meant nothing.

"She," Stormtiger replied, his tone one of amusement. "No adam's apple."

My face was a ruin, my head sliced in half, but my neck was still intact, relatively speaking.

Hookwolf just grunted, turning away, moving back to the warehouse to continue the night's business. I was just another dead body to him, just another casualty of the E88.

Stormtiger turned around to look at him, still crouched over me. He started to get up.

Looking away had been a mistake. I needed something. I couldn't articulate it, didn't have the mindset to form the words, form the connections, but my body knew.

And it responded.

Stormtiger didn't get a warning, didn't even get the chance to scream. One moment he was standing up and the next there was a spike jutting through his heart. He looked down, and collapsed, the shock and surprise visible on his face.

In another moment, my body erupted in tentacles - sharp, long and reaching. Voracious. They quickly reached Stormtiger's body and he was stripped down to nothing and absorbed in a matter of moments, the tentacles moving with an efficiency which was inhuman.

My wounds reknit, and I unconsciously fixed my organs and spine, my abilities guided by my instincts. I didn't know what had happened - I was too out of it for that - but my head was roaring in pain, and I was hearing voices, seeing things in front of me that weren't there.

Hookwolf had already gone inside the warehouse, so he didn't see anything. Didn't notice the previously dead armored figure stand up and lurch, then stumble out of there. Didn't know his subordinate had been killed, murdered and eaten as efficiently as anything could be done.

He didn't know anything, which was the only reason I escaped the scene of the crime. The only reason I managed to get away with my head splitting, with my eyes seeing double, with my memories and knowledge going haywire.

I didn't know what was happening to me. I was starting to gain consciousness, starting to move on more than instinct, and I was terrified of what was going on. Things weren't making sense, I was hearing things, and I could remember things that had never happened to me.

I didn't know then, that this was only the beginning of my troubles. But I did know one thing.

My name is Taylor Hebert, and I'm a murderer.


	3. Mold: 1-3

_- A boy, running from thugs as they chase him down._

_- Growing up, getting involved in gangs himself, making a name for himself before getting captured and tortured. Adopting the name Stormtiger after he breaks free with his wind abilities._

_- Tussling against the likes of Lung and Oni Lee for territory._

_- Visiting the whores gathered in places in the Docks for some stress relief-_

I gasped, wrenching my thoughts from those ... memories. And yes, they were memories I knew. Memories of the man I'd consumed.

Consumed. So easily said, as though it was nothing special. But it was always at the forefront of my thoughts these days. That, and the memories.

I'd managed to get back to my house fairly easily after that disastrous night. I'd regained my bearings some distance away, and transformed back into my own form. Entered my home through the back door, went up to my room and slept it off.

Or tried to, at any rate. The memories were overwhelming, disorienting. At any moment, I felt I was wearing the wrong skin, thinking the wrong things. Like I should be going back to Hookwolf, getting the merchandise ready - doing my job as a member of E88.

And that wasn't the worst of it. No, that special honor went to the memory I had of ruthlessly impaling Stormtiger through the heart and consuming him. Even though I knew, from my memories, that he deserved it, that he'd committed countless atrocities and helped perpetuate even more, the fact remained that I, as a wannabe hero, had killed someone. Even if it was in self-defense.

It felt like my plans to become a superhero had come crashing down. Surely the Wards wouldn't accept a person who'd committed murder? Surely, I'd lost my chance to become a member of the superhero community?

In the end, though, I came to a decision - I'd just hide what happened. There was no one who really knew what had happened that night, not even Hookwolf knew for sure. It would be my little secret.

I wasn't sure if that was Taylor Hebert's idea, or Stormtiger's, but I tried to ignore the thought. For the sake of my own sanity.

From the memories, as much as I abhorred them, I'd acquired quite a few skills. Leading gang members. Understanding the use of fear in leadership. How to use a gun, and a few other weapons besides. How to fight.

And also, I'd found the location of several E88 operations in Brockton Bay. I'd even uncovered the identities of several parahumans working for E88 - including Kaiser.

Max Anders was his name, the head of a very reputed pharmaceutical company. From what I knew from Stormtiger, he was a meticulous man - very sharp, very controlling, and very demanding. He played head games with his employees, made sure they couldn't conceive of resisting him, and it was only my separate perspective as Taylor that let me resist this mythos the man had built up around himself, let me see him for what he was.

I wasn't going to deal with him. I hadn't been able to deal any real damage to Hookwolf - I didn't fancy my chances with his boss. Nor was I confident I could handle Fenja and Menja, the two bodyguards he kept with him at all times, along with him.

... I wasn't sure what part of that analysis was me, and what part was Stormtiger. Couldn't tell where our opinions and personality separated. There had been too much bleedthrough. Not the least of which had been that I'd acquired Stormtiger's powers - I could control wind to the same extent he did, and my senses were greatly enhanced. I was also stronger, and could hit harder.

In the days following that night, I'd found myself getting aggressive very easily, found myself almost defaulting to gang behavior. It had been noticed as well, by my teachers and the other students in school, who assumed I'd joined a gang, like a lot of the other students did.

Not that this helped with my bullying - if anything it made it worse. It was all I could do not to snap and gut Sophia like a fish when she started in on her petty assaults, all I could do not to snap Emma and Madison's necks like twigs.

It terrified me, how easy it felt for me to murder someone. As though there was nothing wrong with it, nothing wrong with proving yourself superior through violence.

It was only my rigid determination to be a superhero that stopped me from resorting to violence, when dealing with Emma and her clique.

Things couldn't go on this way, I knew. I needed some oversight, something to curb my destructive tendencies.

I needed to join the Wards.

-

I didn't join straightaway, of course. I needed to think about things, get my head in gear. For that, there was only one thing to do.

Checking to make sure no one was around with my enhanced senses, I rose from the alley with a pair of thin, gossamer wings. I felt the joy of flying suffuse me, take away my worries and anxiety. Using Stormtiger's control over wind coupled with my own biological manipulation, I accelerated to the point I was little more than a blur in the sky, moving too fast for anyone to really see.

Well, almost anyone. I hadn't counted on someone else being in the sky with me, after all.

In my joy, I'd ... well, stopped paying much attention to the things around me. That was probably why I didn't notice when I almost ran over someone flying as well, moving fast enough that the winds of my passage blew her away.

"Hey! Stop!"

I stopped, turning around. I winced as I looked at who I'd almost run over.

An irate Glory Girl was hovering in the air, her arms folded to indicate her displeasure.

_Whoops._

"What do you think you're doing, flying like that?! You could hurt someone."

I wasn't sure why she was complaining. She was invincible, wasn't she?

"It's the principle of the matter!"

Oh, had I said that out loud?

She idly moved to where I was, hovering around me.

"Who are you, anyway? A new cape?"

I winced, feeling my innate shyness coming to the fore. My mind went through several plans and modes of action, wondering how to respond. Tongue-tied, all I could manage was a depressingly weak 'Yeah'.

Glory Girl floated around me, suspicious. She seemed to be measuring me up, seeing which side of the hero/villain divide I landed on.

Eventually, she seemed to be satisfied with her perusal, because she nodded and extended a hand.

"Glory Girl. And you are?"

I fumbled for a name, trying to think of one on the fly. I _really_ should have prepared for this, I groused, embarassed to have been caught like this.

In the end, I ended up saying the first thing that came to mind, considering the nature of my abilities.

"S-Shaper."

"Shaper, huh? Hero or villain? Or are you a rogue?"

"U-Um, hero?"

Glory Girl grinned, as though amused. She seemed larger than life, as though the world was too small for her.

Her grin was also infectious. I found myself tentatively returning the grin, my heart beating fast inside my body.

"Stating it like a question, huh? Not very outgoing, are you?"

I could only blush in response. It seemed Stormtiger's personality had taken a backseat for the day, though I could hear his amused whispering in the back of my head.

Glory Girl just grinned wider.

"That's fine. Hey, are you doing anything right now?"

I blinked. I was surprised - how had we gone from her lecturing me for my carelessness, to inviting me to a get together?

I wasn't wearing the armor, so she could likely have seen my face. I'd modified it quite a bit, in order to ensure I wasn't recognized, but the expressions were visible plain as day. She must have seen my surprise, because she continued on.

"It's just that I don't see many fliers among people my age, and you remind me of my sister. I think I'd like to get to know you better. So, you coming?"

All I could do was nod, as Glory Girl swept me into her own pace and took me with her to eat.

-

We'd stopped at an ice-cream parlor, Denny's, where we chatted away about inconsequential things.

Well, Glory Girl chatted. I just shyly nodded at times, or shook my head, not really contributing to the conversation.

She seemed to roll with it, though, continuing on avidly.

We talked for quite some time, the topics ranging from Gallant, her boyfriend ("Well, he's not my boyfriend _now_, but we have this _thing_ going on, you know?") to the Endbringer attacks ("Did you hear about the recent attack by Behemoth? 62 capes dead. It was a disaster"), to her sister Panacea ("I love her, I really do, but she can be_such_ a stickler for rules"), to her family ("Dad's ... in a bad place, you know? He has to take medication and everything. I'm hoping he recovers, but it's been so _long_..."). I shared my own stories - my worries about my Dad, my problems with bullies (which Glory Girl was horrified by, and promised to do something about, despite my attempts to dissuade her), my anxiety about my powers (with some details omitted, of course).

It was ... enjoyable. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have a friend to share troubles and joy with, how it felt to have someone just want to be with you. It was one of the better days I'd had in a long, long time, and I could almost forget about Stormtiger, about my troubles, about the fact that I'd murdered someone.

A little while after we'd finished talking, and just spent time enjoying our ice-cream, another girl came up to us. She was dressed all in white, wearing something that looked like a burkha.

Glory Girl waved her over, and introduced her as her sister, Panacea. A little time after _that_, the discussion turned towards our powers.

"So, you've told me you've got some problems with your powers, Shaper, but you haven't mentioned what it actually _is_. You know my power, of course - empathic projection, invincibility, super strength and flight. And Panacea's power is that she's a biological striker, capable of manipulating any biological material according to her will as long as she can touch it. What do you do?" Glory Girl asked, scooping up another bite of her ice-cream.

"Well ... um ... I can manipulate biological material, like Panacea, but I'm not limited to things _outside_ my body. I can manipulate my own body as well, though I can't really manipulate biological material like Panacea can ..."

_And I can also eat people to get their powers, skills and memories. But of course I'm not going to say _that.

"That's pretty impressive. I'd love to compare notes, sometimes, to see how your abilities compare to mine." Panacea interjected, looking interested.

"Um, it's really not that impressive. Not compared to your own ability to manipulate things biologically. Plus, there are a few problems ..."

"You're afraid your powers will go out of your control, aren't you?"

I stopped and stared at Panacea, dumbfounded.

Her expression was sympathetic, maybe even understanding. Glory Girl had stopped eating to quietly stare at us, apparently interested in our conversation.

It was true. I _was_ worried that my power would go out of my control, like the time it had with Stormtiger. That it would consume people the way I had Stormtiger, with no remorse or constraint.

And Panacea ... seemingly understood that. Maybe it was something common among people who used biological powers. With a shudder, I wondered if someone like Bonesaw had the same problems, or if she perhaps reveled in the idea of her power growing out of control.

I quietly nodded, and seeing how inappropriate the moment was for casual conversation, we returned to eating. All three of us - Panacea also joined us.

-

Sometime later, after talking some more and finding myself growing more and more closer to these two sisters, we broke up for the day, leaving for our own homes.

Both Panacea and Glory Girl gave me their contact information, though I unfortunately was only able to provide an email address for them to access - one I'd made for my superhero identity, and that I typically accessed from the library computer. Either way, they seemed happy to have met me, and we'd enjoyed ourselves in the time we'd spent together. It was a closeness I'd missed for a long time now, a real friendship - not like the fake one I'd had more than a month ago.

I was really touched. And seeing the two leave, I made my decision.

No more delays.

I was going to join the Wards.


	4. Mold: 1-4

1.4

The day I was to join the Wards, I experimented a bit with my powers.

I'd noted quite a few strange features of my power over the time I'd had. For one thing, I'd recently learnt, after I consumed Stormtiger, that I could create clothes of any shape, size and design by using my own body as the base for shapeshifting. Funnily enough, the clothes could be made separate from my body, unlike my armor form, and I could reabsorb them whenever I wanted.

I'd also discovered exactly where the insectoid instincts and biological information had come from, immediately after I'd thought about how I'd consumed Stormtiger. Considering there had been quite a few insects in the locker before my triggering, and none after, I'd guessed that I'd probably consumed them upon triggering, as an unconscious action. I'd used this knowledge to improve my armor and physical abilities, by reading up on organic compounds and how they could be rearranged for optimum use and eating more exotic insects, like the Hercules Beetle - even if it felt incredibly gross.

I was stronger - much, much stronger - than I had been when I'd fought Hookwolf and Stormtiger. I didn't know how strong, exactly - I hadn't found anything to properly test my abilities. I was much more durable as well - my armor form likely capable of shrugging of orders of magnitudes more firepower than it could before. I was also faster, and capable of moving with perfect control of my body any which way I wanted to.

I'd also experimented with Stormtiger's powers. I attuned his powers with my own senses, increasing them greatly, while integrating his strength in my own physical makeup. What really proved to be interesting, though, were his abilities with wind.

I'd seen him use them as claws, of course, but it amazed me that he hadn't realized the significance of his abilities - hadn't exploited the full potential of them. He could control air pressure - in a limited way, certainly, but he could control it nonetheless. I tried experimenting with his abilities, using reference books and the internet to provide me with the knowledge I needed, and made some rather large strides.

I could create regions of high and low pressure around me, by controlling the air pressure in the region. I could increase it to the point it would pulp a human body into paste, or decrease it enough that they could die from suffocation. I learnt how to create bombs made of air - compressed air with the pressure increased to such a point that it created a potent explosion when released.. I learnt how to make blades of wind, like Stormtiger's claws, and learnt how to send them forth the way he used to send his claws ahead. I also learnt how to increase the pressure of air, to the point it behaved like a liquid - sending it forth in a stream to cut and rend apart anything in its path, an air jet of sorts. All this I learnt, in addition to the abilities Stormtiger had already possessed - blasts of high pressure wind, and his own claws.

All of that, and I still felt like I wasn't ready.

So much could go wrong here. What if they found out I'd murdered someone? What if they connected my powers to Stormtiger, and deduced that I could take the powers of other capes? I could be sent to prison! I could be denounced as an S-class threat! I needed to be careful, more than ever.

Panacea and Glory Girl helped greatly in the time I'd spent preparing to go to the Wards. To my shame, I'd found myself delaying entering the Wards. I just didn't have much faith in the system, and there were too many ways things could go wrong. It had taken Glory Girl going through with her promise to deal with the bullying for me to learn to trust the system, to trust my friends and the people around me.

My friends. I could still barely believe it.

Glory Girl had proven her friendship a thousand times over by looking into the matter of my bullying. She'd talked to her family, to her lawyer mother, and a case had been filed against Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes and Madison Clements for their actions during the locker incident. The school and Adam Barnes had agreed to settle out of court, but Sophia Hess had been expelled as the ring leader, and the rest of the girls had been suspended for a week. Things weren't necessarily going to get much better on that front, since two of my tormentors weren't there - but hopefully, with Sophia out of the picture, I'd get some peace.

I'd been angry at her, initially, for going behind my back and doing this, for finding out my identity, but that anger had faded as she got results. Even though she'd known I'd be angry if she did this, she'd still gone through with this.

I really could see her as a hero. As my hero, and my trusted friend.

My conversations with Panacea had been no less engaging. It was like I'd found a kindred spirit, someone who understood what it meant to have the powers I did, understood what it felt like. I could talk to her about anything, it seemed, and that, coupled with what Glory Girl had done for me decided it for me.

I told them my secret.

-

Victoria leaned back in her chair, an expression of shock on her face. At the same time, Amy's eyes were wide and unblinking, unable to believe what she'd heard.

We were hanging out at a coffee shop, the Tim Horton's downtown, when I'd dropped the bomb. I'd felt I was being unfair to them by hiding it, even though a large part of me rebelled at the idea of telling them, afraid they'd reject me, be disappointed in me.

But they'd been true friends the whole time I'd known them, and it would be selfish and wrong of me to hide it from them. So I'd told them the whole tale. From my first attempt at being a hero, to my fight with Hookwolf, to what happened between Stormtiger and me.

"This ... we knew Stormtiger had been missing for some time, but to think _this_ had happened to him ..." Victoria whispered, in shock.

Amy just took a sip of her coffee, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"And you just ... _ate_ him?!"

My heart sank at the disgust I could see on Victoria's face, the recrimination I could see there. I blinked back tears, trying to hold them in, as I tried to explain.

"I was ... dead. Dying. If I hadn't done what I'd done, _I'd have died_. And he tried to kill me first, showed no remorse even as he gutted me like a fish-"

Victoria just shook her head, her lips pursed, not saying a word. It was clear she wasn't dealing with it well, wasn't handling the fact that one of her close friends was a murderer, a _cannibal_, well.

Amy finally interrupted, putting a hand on Victoria to stop her from saying anything else. Turning to me, her face entirely neutral, she asked me:

"Did you enjoy killing him?"

"What?! No, of course I didn't! You have to believe me, I wasn't _conscious_ when I did this, wasn't really trying to do it. My body just reacted!"

Victoria opened her mouth to say something scathing, but Amy stopped her again.

"Do you regret what you did?" Amy asked again.

"Yes! Absolutely!"

_No, I didn't_.

Truly, I didn't. It had felt natural to consume him, and as the days had passed, it had seemed that my killing him had been justified. That I'd killed him in self-defense, in order to survive, and he was already a bad man who'd ruined many lives.

But I didn't want to lose my friends. And I could never be sure how much this was Stormtiger's influence talking. Maybe the original Taylor would have regretted it, I didn't know.

Victoria seemed about to say something again, but Amy stopped her.

Finally, she turned to ask me:

"Do you promise not to do it again? Unless you're about to die, and even then not against an ally, a friend?"

I was surprised Amy was leaving me this out, but I already knew what I would say.

"Yes. I agree."

Amy leaned back, arms folded.

"Well, there you have it Vic. It should be fine, right?"

Victoria exploded.

"Like hell it's fine! She just - she just ate him! Like she's nothing but a monster!"

_Monster_.

The word reverberated throughout my head, hitting me right in the heart. One of my closest friends, arguably my best friend at the moment, had just called me a monster.

The tears were flowing now, flowing without restraint. I quickly grabbed my bag, ignored Amy's sharp shout of "Victoria!" and began to leave.

I managed a few choking words as I was leaving, though. Words I couldn't hold back.

"I guess a monster like me should be going then. Thanks for your time-"

"Victoria!" Amy shouted again, her voice sharp and disapproving.

Victoria didn't do anything for a moment, during which I started walking away.

Then, a voice called out: "Taylor, stop."

I didn't stop.

A hand reached out, grabbing me, stopping me from moving further. I could have pushed it away, could have pushed ahead. I was stronger than Victoria, after all - much, much stronger - but I didn't. I was too tired, too emotionally drained, to put in the effort.

"I'm ... I'm sorry," Victoria said, her voice sounding sincere. "I guess, I guess I just got freaked, alright? Please forgive me?"

I turned, staring at her. At her face, pleading at me to forgive her, her eyes looking up at me desperately.

I could have turned away, ignored what she'd said. I was hurt enough for that to seem like a good choice, something I felt like doing.

But I didn't. I remembered how Victoria had campaigned for me against the bullying, how she'd dedicated so much time of her life to making sure I handled things well, how she called at inopportune times just to talk, just to share gossip. How she'd felt like a better friend than Emma had ever been.

Yeah, I was feeling betrayed. But I didn't want to lose my friend like this, didn't want to lose the times we'd had.

Victoria hugged me from behind, her hands reaching out to entwine with my own. She rested her head on my shoulder, whispering "I'm sorry" again and again.

My resolve, my anger cracked. She was sincere in her apology, not using her power to tilt things in any one way. I couldn't stay angry at her, at my friend who'd been there for me through tough times.

I wiped my tears, and freed myself from the hug, turning back to the hug. I smiled, a brittle smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Friends don't need to say sorry, alright? I ... I get why you'd get freaked. It's alright."

"No," She said, carefully guiding me back to my seat. "It's not alright. I shouldn't have said what I said to you, and I really am sorry. I ... I just get a bit judgmental sometimes, it's a failing of mine. Forgive me?"

I smiled, nodding my head. The tears had been wiped away, and I was feeling emotionally drained.

"You're forgiven."

Victoria smiled - and then turned to the people watching the drama unfold in front of them, some of whom were even recording with their cameras.

"Well?! What are you all looking at?!"

They returned to what they were doing, and we returned to our seats, resuming our conversation as though nothing had happened.

"You two done?" Amy wryly commented, sounding amused now that the crisis was past.

Victoria rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up, Amy."

I smiled, feeling buoyant. Things were fine. Things were better than fine. I had friends, and they understood me. Knew me.

I felt happier than I'd felt in a long, long time.

Of course, things didn't end there. There was more I had to share. Quietly, of course. You never know who may be listening.

Victoria looked at me, staring after I'd explained more of what my consumption of Stormtiger involved.

"So ... you have his memories? _And_ his powers?"

I nodded, sipping my coffee.

"Yeah. Everything he's ever known, every skill he had, every ... every act he's ever done ... they're all there in my head. I had a few problems, at first, segregating his influence from my own mind, but now I'm 100% Taylor."

Victoria and Amy both noticed me stumbling in my sentence, and squeezed my shoulders, understanding without words what problems the memories must have created for me. Once again, I thanked God - or maybe Scion, if God didn't exist - for giving me such great friends.

"And as for his powers ..."

I held my hand above the table, palm face up. A spinning ball of air materialized out of nowhere, and began rapidly rotating about my palm, giving the illusion of a contained tornado.

"Whoa ..." Victoria said, her eyes going wide. She understood the implications of this, understood the kind of power I could have.

Amy, however, was chewing her lip.

"This is kinda bad, guys. If she reveals this ability she has, they may just class her an S-rank threat and be done with it. Do you realize what potential for growth this power has?"

Both Victoria and I winced, aware of what she was saying.

"Taylor," Amy said, a serious expression on her face. "You can't let people find out about that facet of your powers. If you do, things may end up going _really_ bad, _really_ quickly."

I nodded, accepting her advice for what it was. It was true, after all - I couldn't let people find out.

Or I might just be marked out to die.

-

Which brought me here, a month after I'd fought with Hookwolf.

I was standing outside the reception area, leading to the PRT offices. I was in a different form than that of Taylor Hebert - the form I'd chosen had been an appeal to vanity, and hence looked less like a sixteen year old girl and more like a supermodel - a level of beauty that was almost unearthly. This, I'd decided, would be my public face as a superhero.

...

What? I was a sixteen year old girl, I had a right to be a _little_ vain. And I still looked a _little_ like Taylor Hebert - just with all my features effectively airbrushed to perfection, with more curves. I was dressed rather casually, as well - blue jeans and a hooded shirt, green in color.

In any case, I was rather unfamiliar with the proper procedure to be inducted into the Wards. Victoria had said that her boyfriend, Gallant, had been picked out by the Protectorate beforehand, so there was no luck there. That meant I'd have to figure out what to do myself.

I tried to make may way to the surreptitiously, but my looks quickly drew the attention of all the people in the waiting area. Cursing my pride, I proceeded forwards anyways, meeting the receptionist who was smiling handsomely at me, no trace of a leer on his face.

At least the people at the PRT were professional.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The receptionist asked.

"Um, yes. Can you tell me what's the procedure for a parahuman to be inducted into the Wards?"

His eyebrow raised up at that, and he started giving me more attention than before.

"For that, I'm afraid you'll have to meet with one of the heroes on call, so they can determine your level of ability and see if you can fit in the Wards. Am I correct in assuming you're talking about yourself, Ma'am?"

Sharp. Taking a deep breath, I answered him.

"Yeah, I am. So who should I meet?"

"I'll just call Miss Militia, and ask her to handle your induction into the Wards, shall I? Please wait here for a few minutes."

In the end, it took ten minutes for Miss Militia to come from wherever she'd been, and she promptly took me to another waiting area, where I was made to sit on the couch.

She was genial, and very polite in her interactions with me. Even in the short time I'd met her, I could tell this was someone who didn't just treat being a superhero as a job. This was someone who lived and breathed the life of a superhero.

I was mesmerized. She seemed like exactly the person I should be, the kind of person to strive to be.

Moving away for a moment, she returned with a few forms.

"First, I need you to fill out these forms. Don't worry, it's just the usual - details about yourself, information about what you can do, that sort of thing. Call me if you need any help with them, and take your time. I'll be back in ten minutes to get the forms."

"Ah, wait - before that ..."

I _shifted_, my body changing to that of Taylor Hebert. The ethereal, unearthly beauty faded to reveal the fairly pretty form of a sixteen year old girl.

Miss Militia was alarmed, her hand automatically going to the gun on her hip. Before anything could happen, I interjected:

"Sorry, sorry. I mean no harm, it's just that this is what I really look like. I took the form I did because I didn't want anyone connecting my appearance with that of the new hero in the Wards. Sorry."

Miss Militia relaxed, though she still seemed a bit tense. Maybe the power had bad memories for her?

"Ah, that's okay. You know you don't need to be so paranoid - the PRT takes the identities of its capes _very_ seriously. There would have been no problems."

"Thanks. Sorry, just making sure."

"It's alright. In any case, I'll leave you to your forms."

Saying this, she left the room. I turned to the forms, and began to fill them out as well as I was able.

Then I reached the power rating part of the form and was stumped.

I wasn't quite sure what to fill in, what criteria my powers fulfilled, so I tried to low-ball it. Brute 4, Thinker 1, Shifter 6, Blaster 4, Striker 8 (based on Panacea's rating), Mover 3 ended up being my final result, along with the description of my power - which was effectively biological manipulation on a precise scale and wind control.

Finally finishing up the forms, she waited for Miss Militia to return, wondering what else she was going to be made to do.

Miss Militia returned in a few minutes, and took a glance at the form - particularly the section denoting power ratings. Raising an eyebrow at the varied and powerful abilities noted within, she idly glanced at me.

I don't know what she was looking for, though I wondered if maybe I'd noted down values a bit too high. That's what it seemed like to me, when she looked at me that way.

Either way, she soon led me to the testing area, where she'd be testing my powers more clearly.

First, came the strength test. I was made to lift a horizontal bar, attached to a hydraulic machine, apparently made by a tinker. The bar would simulate a weight, and I would have to lift that weight.

At first, it was fairly easy. I lifted them without strain, not even using my ability to make my arms more muscular - simply using my ability to augment the muscles and tissues in my already muscular physique. This lasted for some time, until I could finally not manage to lift any more.

Miss Militia just stared at me, stunned.

"One hundred tons." She announced, her voice expressing her clear astonishment. I could understand why - I looked nothing like someone capable of lifting that amount of weight.

"Um ... Miss Militia? I can go higher than that, if I was willing to change my body further."

Her head snapped to me, surprised. I could see she hadn't expected that _at all_.

"Well, whatever you need to do, do so. We need to test you to your limits, after all."

I nodded, focusing on my powers, my body bulking up and my muscles growing massively. I looked distorted, misshapen. My upper body was now grotesque in appearance, not in the proper proportion with my lower body.

The testing continued, with me lifting the weight as much as I could. Eventually, I reached my limit.

Miss Militia stared at the reading for a moment, then seemed to shake herself out of whatever fugue she'd been in.

"Two hundred and fifty tons."

I smiled. It was good to know my alterations had paid off.

Either way, the testing continued - this time, testing my durability. Before we started, I told Miss Militia that my durability was highest when I created armor using my biological manipulation abilities, but my skin was also superhumanly durable.

Both were tested. I was bulletproof in my normal form, and I wondered what value I'd get for it.

"... 30 MPa, limit."

I smiled - or would have if I wasn't busy fixing my torso which had been crushed from the stress produced by the hydraulic press. They'd decided to push further when I'd mentioned I could heal whatever damage they did to me, though even then Miss Militia looked horrified and had attempted to stop the test in the middle.

As for my armor ...

"..."

I grinned, despite myself. I'd used a lot of the information on carbon and it's allotropes obtained from the net to form the armor I wore, and it showed.

"... 1 GPa."

The final rating was Brute 8.

And with that, we moved on to other avenues.

My Thinker classification was explored through a series of tests testing my pattern recognition, processing speed, memory, and other such tests. I left with a rating for Thinker 3.

My shifter abilities were explored next, with my body transforming into any human form, along with any insectoid form scaled to be particularly large. I even transformed into a ten foot tall rhinoceros beetle, just to test how far I could push my body in terms of size. It seems I needed more biomass before I managed something better.

Shifter 6 was the final verdict. With my ability to take any form, from human to insect, I was given a tentative rating of Stranger 4 as well.

My abilities in manipulating biological matter were tested next, and the similarity to Panacea's abilities ensured a quick evaluation, leading to a rating of Striker 8.

The next test to be done was the Shaker test. I hadn't mentioned it in my form, but apparently one of the applications of my wind ability qualified me for a Shaker 2 ability.

My speed was tested next. First, on the ground. I had to run around a 400 meter race track as fast as I could, and a high-frequency camera would capture my motion. I managed a fairly simple 245 mph, approximately, on the ground - not too fast by my standards, but not that slow either.

It would have been enough for a Mover 3 rating, combined with my perfect body control and acrobatics, but my flight was the true test of my speed.

I broke the sound barrier, with speed to spare.

A combination of my wind abilities and the alterations I'd made to my wings due to consumption of bees had allowed this. Working out the connections had been a pain, but rather rewarding in the end.

With that, I acquired a rating of Mover 7.

My final test was as a Blaster, and I demonstrated my various abilities - from the humble wind blade, to the air bomb and air jet, I demonstrated them all. In the end, I came back with a rating of Blaster 5.

And with that, my tests were over.

-

Miss Militia seemed almost out of it when I approached her with the results from my test.

I could sort of understand why. Most capes didn't have as diverse a powerset as I did, didn't have nearly as much versatility when it came to combat. Sure, there were capes out there who would utterly obliterate me if I met them in battle - people like the Triumvirate, for example - but I was also exceptionally powerful for a teenage girl. I knew that, though I also knew the dark secret behind my power, which tempered my enthusiasm to a great degree.

I wasn't here in the Wards to enjoy myself, in any case. I was here to be a superhero, to be under constraints that would prevent my power from going wild. As long as that stayed the case, I would be glad to be a Ward.

"Taylor?"

I turned towards Miss Militia, as she walked towards me from an office room. In her hand was an ID card - my results had already added to the PRT directory.

"Here - this card will get you past security to the Wards headquarters. Meet me there at 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow. I'll see you then, alright?"

"Alright. And thank you."

Saying that, I left.

Now all I had to do, was tell my dad. About his daughter hiding something as important as this for over a month, and generally going behind his back while putting herself in danger.

... I'd sooner face the Endbringers, but I didn't have a choice. This was going to hurt.


End file.
